Mariah Stewart - Coming Home

“I asked my old boss if he’d have someone check, just to make sure this guy was still behind bars. I honestly thought we’d get confirmation that he’d been released on parole. I had him pegged for the break-in. But I got a call while we were at the brunch this morning. Gene Medford is definitely dead. I didn’t want to tell you at the restaurant, and then later, we were walking, and I was just happy being with you, and you seemed so relaxed. For a while, anyway. The truth is, I didn’t want to bring him along with us. I didn’t want to spoil that time together.” He looked a little sheepish. “Well, I ended up doing that anyway, I guess. But I thought it would be better to wait until we got back here to tell you.”

“You didn’t spoil anything. Sometimes you make me think about things that I don’t necessarily want to think about, but that’s on me, not on you.”

She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

“I’m not sorry that he’s dead, Grady. He made my life a living hell.” She thought of all the times in the past she’d wished that something-anything-would happen to remove Gene from her life. “I used to dream that his car would get stuck on the train tracks and he couldn’t get out in time. Or that he’d be eating lunch at work and he’d choke to death. Stuff like that. And in the dreams, someone would come to my house to tell me, and I wouldn’t cry. I’d just say, ‘Oh, thank you for letting me know. Bye.’ And I’d close the door, and then I’d wake up. I never really thought he’d die, ever. Like someone that mean couldn’t die like ordinary people.”

He wrapped his arms around her.

“But you were married to him. You loved him once. You could cry for him if you wanted,” he told her. “Don’t feel like you can’t cry because I’m here.”

“Are you serious?” She pushed out of his arms and raised her shirt up, then turned around so he could see her back. “One of the ways Gene liked to wake me up when he’d come in drunk was to put his cigarette out on my back.” She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Do you really think I’d waste a tear crying over him?”

“Jesus, Ness.” Grady was visibly stunned. He touched the scars gingerly, as if afraid that they had not healed. “Jesus.”

Vanessa pulled her shirt back down.

“I wasn’t showing you so you’d feel sorry for me. I just wanted you to understand.”

He nodded, but as if still stunned, he didn’t reply. He just held her.

Finally, he said, “Maybe this woman, Candice, maybe she was involved with your ex. Maybe she blames you because he’s dead.”

“Maybe. She had that look about her.”

“What look is that?”

“The look of a woman who’s afraid of being hurt,” she told him. “A woman who’s used to being hurt. Just because he was in prison doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hurt her. He could have just beaten her down with words, the way he used to beat me down.”

“Give Hal a call and run that past him.” Grady stood and took his phone from his pocket. “Meanwhile, I’ll see if the FBI can get a list of all of Gene’s visitors.”

She called the station, and he called John Mancini and had a long talk with him. Grady walked out into the backyard to improve reception, and when he returned to the kitchen, Sue was already setting up to start taking prints.

“It’s all yours,” Vanessa was saying. “Doors, counters, kitchen table, whatever.”

“Thanks. I’ll try not to get in your way.” Sue looked over her shoulder and smiled at Grady. “I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

“You won’t be in our way.” Vanessa turned to Grady. “I’m going to drive Grady to pick up his rental car.”

“Oh, and Hal said to tell you he called a locksmith. He’s having your locks changed. He said he’d leave the new keys at the station if you weren’t here when the guy finished up.”

“Great. Thanks.” Vanessa turned to Grady. “You ready?”

He nodded and waved to Sue. Vanessa grabbed her handbag from the counter, where she’d earlier tossed it.

Grady had left Vanessa’s car in the driveway and he now returned the keys to her. They got in and she backed out, maneuvering carefully around the patrol car that Sue had parked a little too close to the end of the driveway. She drove to the rental car’s location on the highway.

“Look at all the pretty cars.” Vanessa pulled into the lot and stopped behind a gorgeous black luxury sedan. “You don’t suppose they’ll let you take this one?”

Grady laughed. “It’s a beauty, but it won’t do me any good where I’m going.”

“Oh, right. Nature man. Wilderness hiker.” She nodded. “I guess you wouldn’t want to leave something that pretty out all by its lonesome while you explore the wild.”

He laughed again and opened the car door. “This might take a few minutes. Come on in.”

“I can wait here.”

“I’d rather have you come inside with me.”

“All right.” She got out of the car and locked it, then followed him inside. While Grady tended to his paperwork, she walked around the reception area. There was a radio playing somewhere in the back of the building. She could hear U2 singing about a beautiful day, and she almost laughed out loud.

Oh, it’s been a beauty of a day, all right.

She stood at the window and looked over the cars in the lot, and tried to pretend that it didn’t matter that he was picking up the car that would take him away from St. Dennis, and from her. She tried to block Candice’s sad face from her mind. She tried to forget that Maggie was in town and spending way too much time with Hal. The only good news she’d had that day had been about Gene. That was one demon she could put to rest forever. It was almost surreal to think she would never have to be afraid of him ever again.

“Got it.” Grady was at her elbow, keys in hand. “Thanks, Ness. Let’s go.”

When they got outside he said, “How about I follow you back into town? I need to pick up some things at the Inn.”

“Sure.” She was still smiling when she got into her car, and when she drove from the lot, waving to him as she pulled her sedan in front of the four-wheel-drive SUV he’d just picked up. But her smile faded as she merged into the line of traffic and forced herself to take several deep breaths.

You knew he was leaving today, he told you that right up front. You knew and you let yourself get involved with him anyway, her little inner voice lectured. And don’t make this more than what it was: a fun weekend. A fling. You used to do flings.

“I don’t do flings anymore,” she said aloud.

Well, you had one this weekend. Let it go. Move on.

Traffic on the highway had built up and the stop and go was annoying her, so she turned off the main road and followed the backstreets. He was still behind her, so she meandered down toward the river side of town, not wanting to end the drive. Once the drive ended, once they were back on Cherry Street, they’d be saying good-bye, and she could barely stand how awkward it was going to be. He’d be saying something like, “Well, I’ll call you,” or maybe, “Hey, the next time I’m in St. Dennis…” but only because he’d feel obligated to. Most one-night stands didn’t run well into the next day the way this one had.

As for his claim that he “didn’t do one-night stands”…

“Bull,” she said aloud. “Guys live for the one-night stand. It’s in their DNA.”

And it isn’t like I won’t have anything to think about after he leaves, she reminded herself. There was her trashed shop, for one thing. Her home, which apparently was no longer her castle, since someone had found a way in, uninvited and intending her harm, for another.